I'm finding lately that I've got way too much explaining to do with this story, and it's dragging too long. Sorry! We'll get into some of the good stuff soon, I promise!!
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Snap and his Screamer wingmen had given the SeeDs time to gather their belongings, which was easy, since they were barely unpacked as it was. Selphie and Quistis questioned the situation and the gruesome newcomer. But Aren and Irvine assured them that they knew Snap and trusted his word. And if Snap and his men had come all the way from their Terran base, Aren had said, then the SeeDs must have been in real danger. But still, the immediacy of the whole thing left many questions unanswered.
A tall, wide and angular armored vehicle was their transport to who-knows-where. By the time they were packed, it was waiting for them on Xann Avenue. Another imposing Terran machine, its stance was like that of a tank. But it carried an unfamiliar air in its design. Something about it suggested the unknown, the exotic, and perhaps the virtuous.
The transport's interior was a direct contrast to its cold steel armor. It was inviting and comfortable, though by no means luxurious. It was a military vehicle, after all. Perhaps Snap had gotten hold of a high-ranking official's personal car, Aren had suggested with a laugh.
The transport had been on the move for what seemed an hour. Again the SeeDs were without windows, and had long lost their bearings. But the Terran vehicle was far less claustrophobic than the awful Galbadian security train. Irvine and Selphie reclined on one of two long, bench-like seats that ran the length of their room in the transport. Quistis was stretched on the floor, running the point of her chain whip through the carpet.
A door at the far end of the car clicked, and swung open. Aren appeared from behind, and the SeeDs gave attention. They got a quick view of the pilot and navigator's cockpit, devoid of a windshield, and completely dark. Computer screens gave the drivers their needed directions.
"Well," Aren smiled, closing the door. "I talked with the pilots. I think I've got us some answers."
"Good!" said Quistis anxiously, "let's hear it."
Aren nodded. "Here's the deal so far. Apparently, someone's had us marked for assassination since we left Garden. They're not sure who. But it has something to do with my Trabia Stratagem."
"Someone's trying to keep us quiet?" asked Selphie.
"Looks like," Aren replied. He brushed forward his long locks, and sat down beside Quistis. "As it turns out, my old instructor, Kore, has been working on the Stratagem as well. And there's been an attempt on his life as well. He did some digging and found out that there were two assassins en route to Trabia. They're probably in the city now."
"I knew it!" Irvine snapped his finger. "I could have sworn someone was watching us at the train station in Balamb!"
Selphie bit her lip. "There's...there's killers...following us?!" she cried.
Aren sighed. "Yeah, they were. And that's why Snap's here. He's got orders to bring us to the nearest Terra jumper. They won't be able to follow us through, whoever they are. We'll try and get to the bottom of this when we reach Gate Four."
Irvine nodded. "Sure beats taking a train back to Galbadia. We'd be spotted for sure."
Selphie tugged nervously at her short auburn hair. "Wait...can we go through that once more? All I got was the 'assassins wanna kill Selphie' part..."
Irvine patted her on the shoulder. "Oh, you can relax now! See, here's the thing: The Terrans found out Aren was in trouble, so they sent us all protection. This transport is taking us to a jumper gate, and we're gonna spend a few days in Terra until things cool off."
"Really?!" Selphie lit up. "Wow, this'll be great! Are you sure we'll be safe? How long will it take? What's a jumper?"
"Does Garden know about this?" asked Quistis, the telltale icy stare prying at Aren.
"Not yet," he replied, "but we'll send a transmission when we get to the jumper. Remember, you're marked for assassination, too. I'm just making sure we all get taken care of."
She stared a few moments more, and finally nodded. "It's just sudden, that's all. No offense."
Aren gave her a nod, and the SeeDs sat quietly for a few minutes, listening to the ground rumble under the mighty transport vehicle. But it was Quistis who spoke once again.
"So," she trailed. "Who's your friend?"
Irvine laughed. "You just won't stop, will you, babe? Take it easy!"
"Nah," said Aren, "I totally understand. He's quite an imposing guy. Not very good at first impressions."
Selphie cut in, unconsciously. "Well, how could you be when your..." She noticed Aren glance up and smile, and she gave an embarrassed giggle and trailed off. "You know, the...uh, with the...nevermind..."
"He fought in my strike group during the Gate Attacks. He was injured in battle, that's why he looks that way. I guess I'm just used to it. But don't worry, you sure can't hurt his feelings!"
"Yeah," said Irvine. "Real good guy. Heart of gold." He pointed a finger at Quistis. "Likes to goof around, though. Not your type."
She smiled and rolled her eyes. "Cute."
"Really? Snap? Wow, I knew your standards were low, but that's just..."
"Hey!" Selphie whined, and punched Irvine in the shoulder.
---
] Headmaster's Office
] Galbadia Garden
] Galbadia
Headmaster Rade sat at his desk, his attention to the viewscreen before him. The visage of Seifer Almasy stared back at him coldly.
"Why aren't they dead?" Rade demanded.
Almasy half-yawned and casually took a breath, obviously choosing his words. "It looks, sir, as though they've been kidnapped. Taken to somewhere in Terra."
"By whom?" Rade cried. "Certainly not Garden! Hyne, it better not have been Garden!"
"No," said Almasy. "And not the military. Our guess is it was a friend of Bowes. You know of Kore, sir?"
The headmaster nodded. "Of course. We killed him."
"No. He survived." A breeze blew Almasy's blond locks over his scarred face, and he brushed them back. "And he killed the assassins."
Rade heaved a nervous sigh. "This is way out of hand...they could know everything by now...they could have me sent away any day!"
"Relax, sir," Seifer drolled. "It just so happens that my current associate, Mikael Midas, is a Terran. He'll get us through the jumper and into Terra. The SeeDs and Kore will be dead by the next check-in."
"They'd better," said Rade. "I'm trusting you as Omega Recourse, Almasy. Get the job done or someone else will."
Seifer's thin eyes glared imposingly, but he kept his professional tone. "Sir, you couldn't find a better hitman if you tried."
Rade nodded; he knew it. But he had expected Almsy to make his move quicker. Time was running out, Rade thought, and these rogue SeeDs were escaping to Hyne-knows-where with Hyne-knows-what from the Garden database. And if it was indeed a scrap of the Trabia Stratagem, Rade could face the firing squad by morning.
---
The transport door slid down, and became a ramp for the SeeD travelers. Aren slitted his eyes as light flooded the doorway.
Bowes, check your arms.
He turned to an officer beside him, taller, and dressed in a liquid-blue jumpsuit adorned with heavy plated armor of the same soft hue. Bulky handguns were holstered under a neatly-organized utility belt. On his back was a sloped, armored pack that contained his munitions and supplies. Cradled on the plates of his forearms was a massive, blue-camoflauged machinegun.
Aren glanced down at his own equipment. He was adorned identically to the trooper beside him. His sidearms were secured in place, his backpack triple-checked over the long ride to the gate, and his machinegun fitted with a fresh clip.
"Relax. My arms are fine."
"What's that?"
Aren took a quick pant and turned to the seat beside him. Selphie eyed him curiously, smiling with a deep-brown eyebrow cocked. He glanced down; he wore his street clothing. Black jeans and a crimson hooded sweatshirt replaced the soft shine of the armor he had seen before. The door he had seen open was still tightly shut.
He scratched his forehead, brushing back a few long strands of black hair. "Sorry. Nothing. Fell asleep, I guess."
Stretching out, he crossed his black-booted feet, and glanced down at the dull grated floor below them. But he felt a light nudge at his thigh; he turned once again toward Selphie. She sat facing him with her legs crossed, still smiling warmly. Aren lowered his sloped glasses. He gave her a look at his grey eyes, and a smile of his own.
Selphie leaned against his shoulder, and rested her forehead on his temple. Aren felt her nose press against the robotic dome that encased his ear. She breathed a whisper that Aren heard clear as day.
"Take those things off, Aren!"
Aren shook his head. He felt Selphie's hair intertwine with his own, and her nose nudging at the edge of his dark sunglasses. He chuckled. "I like 'em," he whispered back.
"Oh, you do not." He felt her smile on his scarred forehead. "And it's dark in here anyway."
Darkness, Aren thought.
He closed his eyes, and said a silent prayer to Hyne. He asked for his safety, and to keep with him all he had learned. He asked for a burning passion, a determined rage, an unstoppable drive to keep his homeland from invasion by the enemy. And he closed as he always did, with a sigh and a slight nod.
Be it your will, a longing thought that concluded the ritual.
Only three soldiers, including Aren, were dressed in the blue armor with its silk-like shine. A few dozen of his peers were crowded behind him in smoke-grey camoflauge. They would exit the jumper behind Aren, as they were lined up. And they would break quickly to the left or right, and hope to find shelter for the inevitable crossfire. But Aren and two other brave men would be the first to taste the battle-burned air, the first to step on Gate Four's jumper landing. They would stay within the creamy flow of the jumper itself, and fire the first volleys to clear the path for the wave of smoke-colored troops.
He did not know the men beside him. He had never seen their faces, and they had no knowledge of his. They were sheilded, unrecognizable, behind flat-fronted helmets, as was he. They did not speak, or introduce themselves. They could not. For though they fought to remain optomistic, and vigorous with the thought of freeing Gate Four, there was a nagging weight deep within them that they had prepared for.
Deep down, they expected to watch each other, and themselves, die within the heavy waves of the jumper.
Aren felt a gentle kiss touch the white scar on his forehead. He gasped and jolted back. His grey pupils thinned down as his eyes flashed open.
Selphie sat beside him, as she had moments before. "What?" she whispered anxiously. "What's wrong?"
Irvine, laying on the floor, raised his hat from over his face. Quistis was leaning against the opposing wall; she offered her attention as well.
"Sorry," Aren smiled. "Sorry, did it again." He slid his glasses up against his eyes, and leaned back against the wall with a tiresome sigh. And through the curse of his razor-sharp hearing, he caught a feint sigh from Selphie.
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